


Paint Me Wings

by outlawofideal



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, One Night Stand, Rockstar!Luke, and dancing, art student!michael, there's some drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawofideal/pseuds/outlawofideal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael needs inspiration to paint and he finds a tall blonde one in a club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Me Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesoulsailor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulsailor/gifts).



> It's a really short oneshot and i wrote this really fast so I'm sorry for any mistakes. This for thesoulsailor because she wanted to read this au.

It is a nice April night that Michael should enjoy his beer in his home but instead, he’s here in a loud ass club for resources. He failed from his creative painting class and his professor told him to look for other inspirations than soothing sights. Yes, he admits his paintings look similar but he can spot all the difference on each one. But he is here, sitting in a booth with a dry gin in his hand.

He writes down those little moves people repeatedly do. The light in their eyes when they are looking into their partner’s eyes, playful smiles appearing on their faces, how they switch between drinks in seconds… He’s not planning to be one of those people anytime soon.  Observing is his things, it’s all he does all day long. He watches, listens, touches things and paints the feeling they gave him.

He swigs the rest of his drink before getting up to go to the restrooms. He’s pretty sure there is queue in front of it and he wants to wash his face to waken himself up. He needs more things to put on canvas but he’s already so sleepy. He’s thankful for the fact it’s Friday night.  

He finds his way between the sweaty bodies eventually. The restroom is filthy yet kind of useful with the spotlights over the mirrors. When he gets closer, his view gets clearer and the purple bags under his eyes are more visible than ever. A splash of water makes him feel better yet it’s not quite enough. He rubs his face, like it can make the exhaustion go away.

Then there’s a movement behind him but he haven’t heard the door or a flush sound. He looks up to the mirror just to meet with a fierce gaze. That’s totally a female he recognizes, an angry female storming out of men’s room. Just like Michael expects there’s man behind her. He had seen so many movies to not to predict what’s going on. But the man doesn’t go out of the restroom; instead he’s right beside of Michael and washing his hands recklessly.

Michael knows it so wrong but it is perfect moment to observe and he can swear this is the most beautiful human he had ever seen. He doesn’t have boney bridge on his nose; his face is long and embellished with high cheek bones. He has quaffed blonde hair, really, _really thin_ lips. He’s totally not perfect but he’s a sight to be honest, with the way his eyelashes bats on his cheeks when he’s focused on cleaning his hands. He hums a song Michael thinks is pretty familiar. He looks to calm for a person who got some sexual action not long ago.

He looks up to meet with Michael’s gaze. Oh, fuck. He is staring and it is embarrassing. But it feels impossible to look away when the man gives him a flirty smile. And he has a fucking lip ring on the left side of his lip.

“Hey,” the blonde man says, his brows wiggling together, like he wants to ask why Michael was staring. Michael couldn’t find anything better than hey so he replied with that. It went silent for a few seconds before the blonde man made a move to get some paper towels to dry off his hands.

“You look like shit.” Said the man as Michael rubbed his face. “Do you need anything?”

Michael stares at for a second, and then he can’t stop babbling. “A big monster energy drink, good grades, money, I don’t know… Maybe a slow fuck against the wall?” He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks. He can’t believe himself that he just said that to complete stranger.

But the man laughs, his laugh is like blossoms in spring. Michael would enjoy painting every little detail of it. “Well, I can suggest you Redbull vodka?” Man arches one of his brows, nearly leaning against the wall he’s next to.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

The rest of the night goes smoother than Mikey expect it’s to be. The blonde man doesn’t feel that much of a stranger. He’s appealing to most of the people and he knows how to use it. He smiles more than any other young adult Michael had ever seen. His smiles come back as drinks or a blowjob as he told the latter what happened in the restroom.  Michael thinks it must be amazing to be that confident. They even get free drinks towards the end of the night. And after that his cool attitude gains him a close dance with the art student.

Yet Michael’s not sure how he ended up here. In the arms of the boy, making out with him on the way back home.  His lips are really soft for a random guy and he kisses like there’s no tomorrow. The blonde’s fingers stay in his hair. “Mikey,” he breathes out. “Your hair is so soooooft.”

They giggle as their lips meet again. It’s awkward, especially when the driver sends unpleased looks to their way. It’s okay though. They make it to the elevators, yeah maybe the door man helped them a bit but there’s nothing wrong with that. The boy, whose name is Luke as Michael learnt, opens the door, trying to stand still. It’s like a ridiculous romantic comedy and he enjoys every moment.

They collide together, rushing towards to a bedroom apparently. He realizes the man is just a youngster like himself. His smile isn’t just attractive it’s full of life. He giggles a lot, specifically after he trips over his own legs.  He falls onto the bed as he pulls Michael in.

“I know you wanted a great fuck against the wall but I don’t think I’m capable of that right now.” He mumbles with escaping little laughs. He brushes Michael’s fringe to the side.

Michael just kisses him on his neck, leaving wet marks behind. “I can live with a slow fuck in bed.” He murmurs, as his hands find their way to the hem of the man’s t-shirt. He knows he’s doomed. But alcohol runs through his veins so fast, and this looks like inspiration right now. He holds on to it, to him. The blonde grabs his cheek as a genuine smile spreads on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, checking on him. His thumb caresses Michael’s cheek ever so lightly. It feels like watching stars sparkle for the first time.

“Yeah…” He nods.

+++

 It’s bright, so bright that it hurts even behind his eyelids. Michael throws his arm over his face and it feels weird. His room doesn’t get sunshine in the morning. Then it hits him, he’s not in his room.  His hand wanders on the sheet yet there’s no one. He expects a warm body, yet the sheets are cold as ice like he slept here all by himself.

There’s an open window, sun is shining above the city and his notebook stares at him on the night stand. A fresh scribble on it says ‘I really am sorry but please paint for me baby.’ It’s supposed explain everything but doesn’t make sense at all. Shouldn’t Mikey be the one leave early with a stupid note? And when did he talk about painting?

He gets dressed up. It seems like he’s not home so closes the window before he leaves, walking back home. He’s not really sure what to feel because there are hickeys on his thighs to remind him the amazing sex. But the stranger meant something at the middle of the night when he slowly made love to the art student. He remembers how their fingers interlaced when their climaxes got closer. It’s so embarrassing to getting attached to someone you had casual sex. He knew it would end up like this.

He stops walking in front of a coffee truck and there he is. No, not standing in front of him. But he’s on the front page of the newspaper. He delivers one of his smiles to the photographers behind his huge sunglasses. Michael can see the poorly covered hickey under his ear and it makes him smile. He grabs the paper, checking the headline.

_“ **Rockstar comes back from therapy**_ **.** _Luke Hemmings and his band returns touring after three months of silence. The front man looks happier than ever with playful gifts from someone special.”_

He’s not sure but he does feel a bit stupid. He knew something about that humming felt familiar.  He could have talk with him more or get his number. But he didn’t and he’s gone. Now all he has about the blonde is a photo from a newspaper and his memories. But he knows what to do; he’s going to paint, _for him._

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this come find me on tumblr at [outlaw-of-ideal](http://outlaw-of-ideal.tumblr.com/)


End file.
